Little Moments
by JeanieBeanie33
Summary: Songfic to Brad Paisley's 'Little Moments.' Harry and Ginny style. It's a little sappy, but not terribly, so you guys will probably like it!


Little Moments

Exclaimer: The lyrics belong to Mr. Brad Paisley and his song writers. Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and everyone else that we all know and love belong to J.K. I just own Harry's thoughts! Well, kinda…

* * *

Harry smiled slightly as he watched his wife Ginny load his food onto his plate. Like her mother, Ginny seemed to think that Harry was too skinny constantly, even though he had gained some weight since he'd married her three years ago.

**Well I'll never forget the first time that I heard,**

**That pretty mouth say that dirty word**

**And I can't even remember now, what she backed my truck into**

**But she covered her mouth and her face got red**

**And she just looked so darn cute**

**That I couldn't even act like I was mad**

**Yeah I live for little moments like that**

He could still remember the first couple years of their marriage. He'd heard Ginny curse as fluently as Ron for the first time when she'd stubbed her foot on the dresser. He could also remember when Ginny accidentally backed his truck (he'd gotten his driver license when he was sixteen, one of the rights he'd that summer after fifth year six years ago) into a tree when she'd been back from getting home from work. Her face had gotten as red as her hair, thinking she'd made him mad, but Harry found that he couldn't, not with her looking so funny and cute like that. It reminded him of when they first met, that summer before second year and she'd had that enormous crush on him, when they'd all been young and innocent and carefree. He loved those memories.

**Yeah that's just like last year on my birthday**

**When she lost all track of time and burnt the cake**

**And every smoke detector in the house was going off**

**She was just about to cry until I took her in my arms**

**And I tried not to let her see me laugh**

**Yeah I live for little moments like that**

He also remembered last year on his birthday. Ginny had tried to throw him a small party for him and his friends (Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, Dean, Seamus, Lavender, Parvati and Padma, Colin and Dennis Creevy, Albus Dumbledore, Remus, and several others), and had gotten so into getting the decorations perfect that she'd accidentally left the cake in the oven a bit too long (both she and Harry decided to live in a muggle house, all though moving pictures were all over and there were magical devices and spells abound). All the smoke alarm spells had gone off, and Ginny burst into tears. Harry had successfully managed to not let her see that he was laughing, knowing she'd take it the wrong way. He loved that memory as well, for the same reason as the first. It also helped him know that he hadn't married a woman that was perfect – he hated perfect. It reminded him of Privet Drive.

**I know that she's not perfect,**

**But she tries so hard for me**

**And I thank God that she isn't**

'**Cause how boring would that be?**

**It's her little imperfections; it's the sudden change of plans**

**When she misreads the directions,**

**And we're lost but holding hands**

**Yeah, I live for little moments like that**

No, Harry Potter wasn't happy because his wife was perfect, because she wasn't. But she tried so hard for him to make it seemed that way, that Harry loved her even more. When he'd been growing up, neither of the Dursleys had gone out of their way to do anything for him, except make him miserable, and here she was, his beautiful wife Ginny, doing everything to make things easy and perfect for him. She failed, but it seemed like she didn't. Harry thanked God every day that she did fail, that she wasn't perfect, because he didn't want to have a mini-Aunt Petunia for a wife. He didn't want anything to be like Privet Drive. It was a promise he'd made when he was a little kid that if he'd ever gotten out on his own, he'd make his life as different as possible from that with the Dursleys. True, the recipes that Ginny accidentally messed up because she'd misread the directions weren't exactly wonderful, but Harry ate it anyway so that Ginny wouldn't feel bad. At times, the change of plans could be a bit disappointing, but Harry dealt with it. Ginny hadn't done it on purpose, he knew, so why should he complain? And anyway, Harry was sometimes lost on what to do – after he'd defeated Voldemort, he didn't know what to do because he hadn't expected to survive. But Ginny hadn't known either, so they were lost together. That was one of the things that had made Harry realize he loved her.

**When she's laying on my shoulder,**

**On the sofa in the dark,**

**And about the time she falls asleep,**

**So does my right arm**

**And I want so bad to move it, 'cause it's tingling and it's numb**

**But she looks so much like an angel,**

**That I don't wanna wake her up**

**Yeah I live for little moments**

**When she steals my heart again and doesn't even know it**

**Yeah I live for little moments like that**

Later that night, Harry was lying on the couch with Ginny, and he saw that, just like countless times before, Ginny had fallen asleep lying on his arm. Harry knew she'd be guilty if she'd known that she'd made his arm go numb (and even more so if she knew it wasn't the first time), and so he just kept his arm there. His arm was now incredibly tingly, but he didn't dare move it. He didn't like the sensation very much – he'd love to move it – but with her hair fanned out like that, and her cheeks flushed slightly from the heat of the room, she looked so much like an angel Harry would hate for her to wake up. He was content to just sitting there and watching her, his heart being stolen again by her as she snuggled up against him, a slight smile on her face. She must've been dreaming, because her face was slackened and she looked totally and utterly relaxed. Harry loved moments like these, when it was just her and him. Of course, he knew it wouldn't be like this – after all, it had just been this last week that she'd told him she was pregnant with his child – but for now, it was just them, alone together. He'd love his unborn child, he mused as he touched Ginny's belly with his free hand. He'd love him or her as much as Ginny. But still, he'd miss these moments – these little moments that were all theirs.


End file.
